Hawk to Duck D1 by Banks
by canadian-hockey-girl
Summary: This is D1 from Banksie's point of view, cos I love Banks and there's not enough of him in the movie
1. Default Chapter

This story is basically D1 from Banksie's point of view. This chapter is going to be short, cos I want to get onto the part where he becomes a Duck. My geography is horrible, I don't actually know where Minnesota is, so if I get things wrong don't blame me. I'm from B.C. so I'm making it like it is here.  
  
I don't own the Mighty Ducks. Very sad.  
  
It was our first game of the season. We were playing District 5. They were all losers who couldn't play to save their lives anyway, so we would have no trouble winning and pleasing Coach.  
  
"Hey Adam, ready for the hockey game this evening?" asked Larson. "District 5? You bet." "We're going to grind their faces in the ice, right Banks?" said McGill, who had just come up. "Sure we are. How could we lose?" said Larson. McGill and Larson laughed. I joined in. (After school before the match) "Adam, where are you?" "Here Dad." "Ready for the game this evening? You'd better skate real hard, you hear me!" "Yes Dad. I'll do my best." "Your best? I want the best, Adam; I want everyone asking who is that kid, the best skater on the ice? You understand?" "Yes, Dad. I understand." "Got your gear packed? Ready to make me proud?" "Yes, Dad. I'll make you proud."  
  
(At the game, on the ice)  
  
The warm up had just ended, and we were skating to the bench. Just as I had thought, District 5 could hardly stand up on the ice. It was actually hilarious. But I could see my father watching on the stands, and I concentrated on skating as well as I could. I had to make him proud of me.  
  
The game went well, I scored about 13 goals. I'd never scored that many in one game in my life. I was skating really hard, and I had a lot of shifts so I was exhausted by the end of the game. Half of me just wanted to collapse in to bed and stay there, but I was still pretty pumped up, so when McGill suggested finding District 5 after the game, Larson and I agreed to go with him.  
  
They were round the back of the rink, we found them easily enough. On our skates we could totally out manoeuvre them, it was quite funny. I mean, how could anybody be so useless on skates, and still try to play hockey? They were just like beginners during public skate desperately clutching on the edge of the rink as if they were about to die, except with hockey sticks. It was pretty cold outside, and they were wrapped up like, well like druggies living out of garbage cans. Which their parents probably were, come to think of it. Anyway, it was pretty funny till this giant evil monster guy turned up, and dumped us in the trash. McGill was really mad, and was coming up with all these plots to get back on District 5, though it wasn't really their fault if some random guy, probably another druggie, backed them up. Maybe they knew him, but it didn't look like it.  
  
(At home)  
  
I went to my father's study and knocked on the door. We always had post game talks. I hated them, when the game was done, it was done, right?  
  
"Come in, Adam." "Evening Dad." The board (A/N does anyone know what those boards with rink markings on them that you can write on are called?? It stupid I know, but I don't know the name) was already on the desk with pens ready. So were Dad's notes on the game. I sat down. "You were playing quite well tonight, but you could have played better. Half way through the second period there was a loose puck that you could have got to, but you let the other team get to it first, and then took it off them. Other teams won't let you take it off them. You've got to get to those pucks first. You got to skate as hard as possible, right from the first minute of the warm-up to the last ten seconds of the game. You understand me?? Don't tell me you were tired. You'd just sat out two shifts. Do you want to play hockey or not?" "Yes, Dad. I want to play hockey. I'll skate harder." How could I skate harder? I was already pushing my self as much as I could. But hockey was my life; I would never give it up. I would do anything to play hockey. Anything to make my Dad proud of me. "Right, well towards the end of the second period.  
  
I sat through another half an hour of this dissection of my game. I had played well tonight. Perhaps in tomorrows game I could play even better and make my father proud of me.  
  
Okay, now review!!!!!! Good or bad I don't care, I just want to know. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Please?? 


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own the ducks. So now you know.  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers!!! CF28, crazy4nc128, Starr2, Goddess of Silent Tears, Banksiesbabe99, anne918 (when I actually typed it I did do that but you have to double space for it to show up I think so I will this chapter), and denverhockeygirl (thanks)  
  
The hockey season was going well, we won all our games, but my father still wasn't satisfied. He didn't seem to realise I was trying my hardest. After hockey games or practice I was so tired I could hardly move. Then one game, when I was warming up, Coach called me over. I saw my father and that coach of the District 5 team; I think they're called the Ducks or something weird like that now. Why was he here, I wondered, it wasn't like we were playing them.  
  
It was in the changing room after the game that it really hit me. Me, Adam Banks, a Duck? I'm a Hawk, not some loser that can't even skate! But on the other hand, not playing hockey would be the worst thing that could happen to me. Last year, I had twisted my ankle, and was off hockey for two weeks. It nearly killed me. Not playing hockey for a whole season? What would my friends think of me? What would I do with my time? When I got home, I went to my Dad's study as usual. I knew he would want to talk about me being a Duck. But first, he went through the whole match with me, play by play as usual. I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying, I was so anxious about not being a Hawk. "Adam, you aren't concentrating this evening! Don't you want to improve your hockey?"  
  
"Yes Dad."  
  
"Then listen to me. You need to focus if you want to be any good."  
  
Finally we got to the end of the match. I leaned forward, eager to hear what he was going to say. "Sit up straight, Adam. Now, onto this preposterous suggestion that you could be a Duck. The very idea! My son, a Duck? Now, I'm going to talk to the Pee Wee people, and get this sorted out. Don't worry; you'll never have to be a Duck."  
  
I was worrying about what he had said at the rink - 'My son would rather not play than be a Duck.' "Dad, umm, what if I can't play on the Hawks this season."  
  
"What do you mean? I've said I'll talk to the league. I'm busy, Adam. I can't talk to you all day."  
  
"Sorry Dad. But what if the league says next season?"  
  
"Adam, do you think I haven't got better things to do than talk to a silly little boy all evening? I've told you, I'll talk to the league."  
  
He hadn't told me what I really wanted to know, whether he would let me play on the Ducks if I had to. It was nine o'clock, and my mother would be angry if I wasn't in bed. I started running upstairs.  
  
"Adam! Why aren't you in bed? How many times do I have to tell you? Don't you ever listen to me? Why can't you be like your brother? Why can't you make me proud of you?"  
  
I wanted to; I wanted my parents to be proud of me so badly, I tried so hard. But it never worked. Whatever I did, it seemed like they were never proud of me.  
  
"Sorry Mother. It won't happen again."  
  
Next day, at school, McGill came up to me. He had a nasty expression on his face. I had seen that expression many times before, but it was normally directed at someone else, and I was with Larson behind him, acting as his back up crew. This time, I was the one cornered in an empty classroom. It didn't feel good.  
  
"Banks, is it true that you're abandoning us to become a loser duckie- wuckie?"  
  
"Umm, no, that was just their loser coach trying to steal me. But my Dad talked to the League, and I'm still a Hawk."  
  
I didn't know if my Dad had actually talked to the League yet, or if they had said yes.  
  
"Oh right. Well then, come with us then, some Grade 4 kid tried to trip me up. I'm going to make him pay!"  
  
Normally I would have found this funny. But his time, having just had him turn on me like that, it wasn't the same. Besides, if I actually had to join the Ducks, what would happen at school? When I got home from school, my mother was waiting for me.  
  
"Adam, how was school? Did you get any marks backs? You know we expect you to do a lot better than last term."  
  
Last term my grade average was 94%. I was top of the grade.  
  
"Yes mother, I got my science results back. I got 96. That was the best mark."  
  
"So what happened to the other four percent? I want to be proud of you, Adam. You have to work hard at school."  
  
"It was a hard test, Mother. The average was 72."  
  
"Don't make excuses. I want you to do well. You have to be focused all the time, and give 100%. Now go and do your home work."  
  
My father and mother were always echoing each other. Work harder, stay focused, give 100%, and make me proud of you. The only difference was that my mother was talking about school, my father about hockey. What did I have to do? I sat down, and started my homework. I always spent at least an hour working at night, even when I had a hockey match. My mother would check through all my homework after I did it, to make sure it was perfect. It reminded me of my Dad after hockey matches. Every tiny little thing. You have to be perfect to make me proud of you.  
  
"Adam, you made a grammatical error. This should be a semi colon. You have to pay attention to these things. And you used wonderful twice in this sentence. Vary your words. You're falling into sloppy habits. I won't have it. Correct those, and then go to your father's study. He wants to talk to you."  
  
You missed a loose puck in the second period, you used wonderful twice in one sentence, concentrate on what I'm saying, what happened to the other four percent? Why can't they be proud of me?  
  
"Adam, I talked to the League today, and they agreed to let you stay with the Hawks."  
  
"Yes! Dad,"  
  
"Don't interrupt me, Adam. They agreed to let you stay with the Hawks on one condition. The coach of that team agreed. Now, I went to Mr. Ducksworth, do you remember him, he came to dinner here a few times? Well, he is Bombay's boss, it turns out. I thought he would be able to fix it. It turns out Bombay's fixated on ruining your hockey career. So you can't play hockey this season."  
  
"Can't play hockey?" I couldn't live without hockey.  
  
"No, but I still expect you to go to the rink an hour a day, and practice your skills. I have talked to Jack Riley, and he is willing to let you practice with the team, in order to be ready for next season."  
  
"But, I could play with the Ducks couldn't I? In theory."I added hastily.  
  
"Well yes, in theory, of course you could. But no son of mine will play for the Ducks. Think what my work colleagues would say. How could I be proud of a son calling himself a Duck?"  
  
My heart sank. "Could you be proud of a son who didn't play hockey?" I asked quietly. If I didn't play hockey, my Dad wouldn't have post-game talks with me, and I would never see him. And how would I ever make him proud of me?  
  
"Adam, I'm doing this for your own good, you know. Can't you be grateful for once? Why do you have to be so difficult? I do everything for you; in return you could at least stop whining."  
  
"Sorry Dad. But, if it was just for one season, just till I could move back."  
  
"Stop arguing with me, Adam. If you played with those, those embarrassments to the game of hockey, you would become sloppy. You would become even lazier than you are now. And besides, how do you expect anyone to take you seriously if you play for them?"  
  
"How will anyone take me seriously if I give up hockey just because I have to change teams temporarily?"  
  
"Don't argue with me, Adam. I say you play for the Hawks. I feed you, clothe you, and pay for your hockey stuff, why do you have to be so difficult? Just one season without games, your career will be better as a result, you'll have a chance to work at your individual skills and skating. I'll get you a power skating coach, don't worry. We won't let your standards drop. You have to be the best, Adam. How can you be the best with those kids?"  
  
"Please, Dad? I don't want to play with kids like that, but I love hockey. I have to play."  
  
"You don't have to play. I'm your father and I know what's best for you. Now go play. I'm busy."  
  
I knew it was useless to argue. I went upstairs, and met my mother.  
  
"Adam, did you correct your homework? We expect you to win the Governor General's medal (A/N best student in school in Canada, what's the equivalent in America anybody?) this year. After all, you're in Grade 7 now. You should win it easily, as long as you work hard. Make us proud of you."  
  
"Would you be proud of me if I won the medal?" I asked eagerly. I sounded like a little kid. She ignored me. I went out to practice hockey in the back yard. Focus, focus, focus. But I wasn't concentrating hard enough. I was too worried about not playing hockey. Fears about playing with the Ducks were now insignificant; the fear of not playing hockey was much greater. 


End file.
